Promises
by XthesilverliningX
Summary: John comes home to some strange noises...but Sherlock is the only one in the flat. PWP. Slashy goodness. Rated M, because M rated fanfiction is the only kind of fanfiction. Slash/Language Content
1. Promises

It was at the door John first heard the noise. John was about to unlock the door, keys in hand, when a soft sound came from inside the flat.

_What was that?_ John wondered. He shook his head, sure he imagined it, when he heard it again. He pressed his ear against the wood, trying to confirm what it was. _Is it? No, it couldn't possibly-_ John's thoughts were cut off when he heard a long, drawn out moan come from the room. And it was definitely Sherlock.

John looked through the crack between the door and the wall and got a visual assault he wasn't prepared for. Sherlock, draped across the couch, belt buckle and zipper undone. Head thrown back, one hand clutching the arm rest, the other thrown down the front of his trousers. His mouth was slightly parted, ragged breaths coming through. Sherlock's shirt was unbuttoned and his bare chest gleamed in the afternoon sunlight streaming in, his abs flexing with each shift in movement.

Up until this point, John had told himself that he was completely heterosexual. And so he was. Until he moved in with Sherlock Holmes. The man was a walking work of art, a fucking masterpiece. Pale skin like the smoothest marble, a mess of dark curls that sometimes fell in front of his eyes. Ungodly cheekbones, and such a magnificent neck. In short, Sherlock was one hundred percent gorgeous.

John had, more frequently in the recent weeks, caught himself thinking about Sherlock, images flitting through his mind. But this, this glorious scene, it was enough to make John's breath come short and his pants to tighten painfully. Sherlock let out a deep, rich groan, hips rocking in sync with his hand. When Sherlock bit down on his lower lip, eyes shut tight, John shuddered in pleasure. God, how he wanted that mouth, wanted to take it, wanted to feel it take _him_. Before he could stop and think about it, John began to palm his own straining erection through his jeans, keeping in time with Sherlock's motions. He struggled to remain silent, biting down on his tongue to keep from making a sound. Luckily, when he accidentally let out a soft groan, Sherlock did the same, just a lot louder.

John undid his buckle and zipper and slipped his hand inside his boxers, still matching the detective's rhythm. It got faster and faster, and when Sherlock made another noise, John had to have imagined it. He continued pumping himself, eyes drifting shut and fantasies of Sherlock's hand replacing his beginning to flicker through his mind. But, when Sherlock's hips rocketed off the couch and his whole body flexed, John was sure he cried his name. The sight of Sherlock coming and the sound of his name falling from those wicked lips was enough to bring John to his knees, shuddering as he followed suit, Sherlock's name a silent prayer on his lips.

John stood up, cleaning up his mess. He tied his jumper around his waist to keep the stain from showing and breathed hard, preparing himself. He was about to open the door when it flew open, Sherlock standing there, trousers still undone, shirt still hanging off his lean frame. A sinful smile twisted Sherlock's lips as he pulled the doctor inside, closing the door and slamming him against it, lips crashing together with bruising force.

"I know you saw, John. And I know, while you were watching, you were touching yourself. Well, I'm bored, hot, and I want to feel you in my mouth, want to hear you scream my name when I suck you dry. And I will, John. I promise, I will make you come so hard you won't remember where you are. And I always keep my promises," said Sherlock in John's ear in a voice like velvet, causing John to tremble in anticipation. Oh yes, this was definitely going to be a promising night at 221B Baker Street.


	2. Heal Me, Doctor

Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly All characters belong to BBC Sherlock (but the smut is mine...all mine...)

Sherlock licked his lips as he sank to his knees in front of John. John looked at him with hunger in his eyes.

"Do you want to heal me doctor?" Sherlock whispered, unzipping John's pants and pulling them down along with his boxers.

John looked down and let out a soft growl. He tangled his hands in Sherlock's curls and pulled him up so their lips were centimeters away.

"Time to take your medicine. Doctor's orders," John commanded. Sherlock shuddered at the dominating tone in John's voice and quickly dropped between John's legs, pulling out his straining erection. Sherlock wanted to make this last. He licked around the doctor's most intimate region, just missing the spot he needed most. He left little bites here and there, each one making John cry out with need.

"Don't do that, Sherlock. I need this," John managed to get out between moans. Sherlock smiled, reveling in the power he had over John at the moment. Finally, showing mercy, he ran his tongue along John's cock, causing the soldier to throw his head back and gasp, hands roughly pulling on Sherlock's hair. The detective slowly went down, inch by inch, taking his lover in at a pace that drove him insane.

"Tell me what you need," Sherlock said, the vibrations shooting up John's spine straight into his brain.

"You…harder…_God, _Sherlock, just like-FUCK! Just like _that!_" John moaned out as Sherlock applied suction, running his tongue around the base. He learned John's responses, retaining his reactions. How John would growl when Sherlock scraped his teeth gently, how he would pull on Sherlock's hair when he swirled his tongue, and how his hips would slam up off the couch with a shout when Sherlock began a wicked hum.

Sherlock couldn't help it – he reached down and began to palm himself through his pants. He was rough and hard, squeezing his cock every time John let out a moan. Soon his breath was coming fast, pulse was skyrocketing, and his impending orgasm loomed. John's hands were clenching and unclenching, curses coming out in rapid succession. John was totally undone, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, eyes shut and eyelids fluttering, mouth open, groaning in pleasure.

Sherlock applied more pressure, now using his spare hand to work around the base of John's cock, causing the doctor to hiss in ecstasy. It was too much. John's entire body rippled with the intensity of the feeling. He could feel the edge coming close, could almost taste it. Then John opened his eyes.

He looked down and saw the young detective working his magic mouth, caressing himself at the same time. The sight of him sucking John off and touching himself at the same time was too much at once.

"Oh, God, SHERLOCK!" John came with a shout. His eyes shut, his whole body flexed and he felt the orgasm slam into him like a cement truck. His hips bucked forward, seed spilling into Sherlock's mouth, who swallowed all of it. Sherlock pulled back and laid down, knees up, one hand still working at his painfully hard erection. He pumped faster and faster, the now-exposed organ hot and heavy. Sherlock's eyes were shut tight, flying open when he came, John's name on his lips. His entire body arched off the floor with the force of it. He shuddered, riding out the orgasm in waves, whole body undulating against the ground.

They stayed there for a few moments, too lazy to get up. After a while, Sherlock turned to John.

"John?"

"Yeah, Sherlock?"

"Next time, I get to play doctor."


End file.
